Hello, There Stranger
by franticscribbler
Summary: Sara Beth is a 42-year old mother of two that loves her friends, family, job and quiet weekends filled with hammocks, trips to the Maine coast with her husband and her never ending reading list. For years she has put everyone else's needs above her own and shuffled thru the monotony of her daily life. But when she meets a handsome stranger, 12 years her junior, on a girls trip to N
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

**Chapter song list: **_**Set Fire to the Rain**_** by Adele, **_**Say Something **_**by A Great Big World, **_**In My Blood **_**by Shawn Mendes**

**SARA BETH**

I don't remember when I stopped singing in the shower or humming in the aisles of the grocery store but somewhere along the way it happened and I never noticed. Don't get me wrong, I am not depressed or sad or miserable. In fact, just the opposite. My friends and coworkers poke fun at me for laughing all the time. I am known as the perpetual giggler.

"Don't get her started," they joke.

"You are the funniest person you know," my husband, Ryan, teases.

And they are right. I have every reason to laugh and smile all day long. I am healthy. I married my high school sweetheart and we have raised three bright and talented daughters. I have built a successful and sought after real estate brokerage in Maine. Sure, my sex life is, if I'm being honest, less than stellar and my husband gets a little sloppy after having too many beers once or twice or week. But that isn't a deal breaker. In fact, I bet most people I know would trade places with me in a heartbeat to avoid their overly dramatic family issues and struggling careers.

Most of my friends are still slaving away for bosses that steal their ideas and vacation time and go home to single parent unappreciative children that talk back and have their heads glued to their phones. Listening to their stories whispered between yoga mats or over coffee at my kitchen island makes me more than appreciative of my own life.

So why, when I am laying in bed at the end of everyday, does the deep seated feeling of dissatisfaction seep into my brain? Why do I feel tiny bits of frustration and uncertainty creeping in?

It's as though my life is a giant jig saw puzzle I finished assembling only to discover there was one piece missing from the box. In theory, the puzzle is finished and and complete, but it isn't as satisfying as running your hands across the top of a 100% completed puzzle. Part of you is happy you're done with assembling it and excited to move on to something new and challenging, but a greater part of you feels cheated, unsettled and pissed off at the company who packaged the puzzle for not giving you all the pieces to finish it. A part of you can't let go of the that fact that all that time dedicated to putting it together was for not. It will never be really finished.

I feel the same way about my life. Something is missing. Something is incomplete. I can feel it but can't put my finger on what it is. And heaven forbid I express this small nagging feeling to anyone in my life, I'd be labeled difficult, and the ungrateful bitch for all my days. My friends, with true problems at both work and home would never understand why something so trivial is eating at me. I can hear them now.

"WHAT do you mean, you aren't happy?" Rachel would demand.

"You have everything anyone could ever possibly want. The perfect family, job, health, wealth..." Heather would point out.

"Are you off your meds?" Colleen would chip in.

No, bringing it to any of their attention simply isn't worth it. They wouldn't understand. How could someone who appears to have the perfect life not be anything but happy? That's insane!

Instead, I lay here in bed listening to Ryan snore while my mind races. I make lists of items to grab at Trader Joe's for meals for the week, run over the appointments the girls have after school and make a mental note to grab Ryan's dry cleaning on my way to the office. I flash back to the pride I felt this afternoon when watching our oldest daughter close out her basketball season with the game winning basket. And I quickly question whether I turned off the mud room light before coming to bed.

There is also that tiny voice in the back of my head reminding me to suppress the nagging feeling that I'm not truly happy, that I'm just going through the motions, that the grass is greener elsewhere, that somewhere along the way, I lost or gave up a piece of myself. The piece that I can't talk about, the piece that my friends just wouldn't understand...the piece that makes you happy enough to sing in the shower.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**Chapter song list: **_**That's My Girl **_**by Fifth Harmony, **_**Steal my Girl**_** by One Direction**

**SARA BETH**

Mondays are always a bit of shit show but mine are like something out of The Walking Dead. Despite trying my best each week to go to bed early Sunday night to start the new week off right, I usually am unable to put that latest book I am engrossed in down long enough to fall asleep.

After tucking the girls in bed, starting the dishwasher and listening to Ryan pad down the hallway to our bedroom, I reach for my phone and start pouring over the words others have crafted and escape into the imaginary scenes and worlds they have woven. It's my safe place. An escape from reality. Before I know it, hours have passed, it's 1AM Monday morning and my plan to finally start the week off right by going to bed early is a pipe dream.

My phone jarringly wakes me at 6:50am and I hit snooze at least five times before dragging my severally under caffeinated body out of bed. Ryan's side of the bed has long ago gone cold. He is an early riser and out of the house before any of his girls would dream about opening their eyes.

My phone buzzes again reminding me it's time to wake the girls for school. I hit the grind button on the coffee maker and make my way to their rooms.

The morning passes without incident and is a blur of packed lunches, signed permission slips and kisses before they head to the bus stop.

Fifty minutes after I pulled myself out of bed, the house is quiet and I pour myself my second cup of coffee. I am half way thru reading the morning paper when I receive a text from Rachel:

*That's it. I've had it. Haven't had a girls night in forever. Just got off the phone w Colleen. Girls weekend in NYC. It's happening. Next weekend. Clear your calendar and sharpie it in. Period.*

I roll my eyes, mentally cursing her for being so damn pushy. I have a showing scheduled for Sunday and the girls have Little League tryouts Saturday morning. I can't make it work. But before I can type anything in response, my phone buzzes again with a text from Heather:

*You ARE coming.*

And another from Colleen:

*Stop overthinking it. I already talked to Ryan this morning. He agrees. This weekend will work. Get one of your agents to do the showing. Your ticket is already booked. We leave Friday at 4pm. Done deal. :)*

Grrrr. Frustration and amusement wash over me and I take another sip of my coffee and sit back and smile. Of course Colleen would have known to out maneuver me and talk to Ryan first. If years of friendship have taught her anything it's what a control freak I am. Unable to delegate and overthinking everything, I usually pass on all the fun trips because of 'prior commitments' or 'family obligations'.

Ryan, of course, wouldn't say no for fear that I would bring the hammer down on any future plans he may make with the boys. Hunting, fishing, baseball and football games out of state, they are always planning some drunken getaway that I make sure never to ask the details about.

I pick up my phone and type a response to Colleen.

*Okay. I'm in. Waving my white flag.*

I fold the paper, grab my phone and march to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. Before I have finished even shampooing my hair, Colleen, Rachel and Heather have added me to a never ending group text of plans for NYC. Must sees, must eats and must dos. My phone has blown up with notifications.

*I'm good with just people watching in the park and hitting Cooper's $1 fish tacos on Monday night!*, I type after reading through dozens and dozens of their texts.

*People watching=GOOD. Coopers=GREAT. Late night shenanigans in the East Village=BEST. Bring Pedialyte.*, Heather responds almost immediately.

I snort. *I haven't required Pedialyte in YEARS. Are we seriously going there this weekend?*, I type back.

*YES. Blow outs, made up faces, dive bars and tequila shots. We haven't had a true girls weekend in years. Brace yourself. Start hydrating now. It may require years of recovery.*, Colleen messages the group.

I chuckle, exhale loudly and shake my head in denial. *suuuuuuure* I type back and turn on the blowdryer, attempting to finish getting ready while simultaneously drowning out the constant buzzing of incoming messages from the group text.

Thirty minutes later I exit the bathroom made up for the day. I glance at my phone on the way to the closet and can't help but chuckle at the number of unread texts I've received while getting ready. Fifty two unread messages.

Opening the thread I scroll through the messages looking at key words in each: Habana Outpost, Brooklyn, karaoke bars, East Village, dive bars, Hells Kitchen, hotel...

I type a response:

*Love you ladies but I have a crazy busy day today and can't have my phone buzzing away thru my appointments and showings. I'm good with whatever you decide. We can buy Pedialyte if needed in NYC. Hoping it won't be necessary (hint hint). Just tell me when and where to show up and I'm game. Removing myself from the group text. Love yas!*, and I hit send.

Within seconds I receive two responses:

*You can't escape us that easily. We know where you work and live!*

*Always the party pooper. I'll have you dancing on tables before the weekend is over!*

I laugh at the last message and remove myself from the group text.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

**Chapter song list: **_**Raise Your Glass**_** by Pink, **_**There's Nothing Holdin' Me Back**_** by Shawn Mendes**

**SARA BETH**

Friday arrives in a flash and I find myself eagerly counting down the hours to girl time. As promised, Ryan arrives home early from work to get the girls off the bus. I don't let on that part of his early arrival was seeded in his desire to send me off with a quickie. Despite his hints and subtle attempts, I won't be sidetracked from arriving at the airport early.

He puts my carry on in the car, sends me off to the airport with a kiss and makes me promise to text him when we arrive at Laguardia. I jump in the car, open the Spotify app on my phone and crank _Raise Your Glass_ by Pink before pulling out of the driveway. Music blares from the speakers and the upbeat music puts a permanent smile on my face. I dance and sing my heart out during the five minute drive to the airport.

I laugh out loud as I spot Colleen's car parked across from mine in long term parking. As I pull my carry on out of the backseat I hear rapid footsteps and see a flash of blonde hair headed my way.

"Ahhhhhhhh. GIRLS TRIP!" Heather screeches as she wraps her arms around me and jumps up and down.

"Watch out, I think she already started drinking," Rachel chuckles from across the parking lot as she pulls her own luggage out of Colleen's car.

"Seriously?" I ask eyes wide.

"No...okay maybe just a few nips in the car on the way here," Heather says giggling. "Don't be a party pooper before the plane even takes off." She looks at me and sticks her tongue out.

"NYC isn't going to know what hit them," I spit out with a smirk, giving Heather a little hip bump as I do.

"Hell no it won't!" Colleen chips in as she shuts the trunk and pulls her rolling bag toward us.

"Ready ladies?" Rachel asks with a smile.

"Let's do this!" Heather says far too loudly and excitedly.

We all giggle at her and turn toward the airports entrance.

Once through security, we all head to the airport bar to pass the hour before boarding.

"Cheers to a fabulous ladies weekend!" Colleen says as she raises her glass.

"Ladies you have no idea how much I need this weekend," Heather sighs before telling us all how her new boss has been making passes at her at the office. "If he thinks I'm going to sleep with him so I can get the promotion I have earned he has another thing coming," she says as she forcefully puts her glass back down on the table.

"Jesus, no wonder you are drinking already," Rachel says eyes wide.

"You don't know the half of it. He thinks because I am single he can wiggle his way into my pants with promises of furthering my career. He keeps pushing to get me to go with him on overnight work trips with adjoining rooms out of state," she spits out in disbelief. "I turn him down and he keeps telling me what an opportunity I'm missing out on." She rolls her eyes in disgust and leans back in her chair.

"What a slime ball. What's his name?" Colleen asks.

"Gerald. I swear, I'm half tempted to go down on him just so I can rip off his balls while I'm on his knees," Heather says.

Rachel sprays the beer from her mouth all over the table at this admission.

"A little warning would be nice next time, Heather," Rachel says, beer dripping from her chin.

"You should expect that from her by now," Colleen chuckles. "Heather's filter has never worked properly."

"A toast to a weekend without filters and sleezeball bosses. Off with Geralds prick," Heather says raising her glass to the center of the table.

"To a kid free weekend," Rachel adds.

"To a weekend free of responsibility and morals," Colleen laughs.

"To a long weekend with some of the best girlfriends a girl could ask for," I add lifting my glass to theirs.

"Cheers!" we all chime in clinking glasses and downing the last of the liquid in our cup.

By the time we touch down in NYC, Colleen has filled us in on her drafted agenda for the weekend which includes far too many stops at eateries across Manhattan and Brooklyn and an equally obscene amount of bars.

"So you'll be rolling us home then?" Rachel asks.

"Hell no. There will be equal parts dancing and pounding pavement late into the night," Colleen explains.

As we step up to the taxi stand, Colleen fills us in on our first destination.

"We'll head to the hotel in Hells Kitchen and get checked in, showered and dressed for dinner. I made reservations for us at a cute restaurant in the Village. There is a dive bar in the East Village that I thought we could hit after. Super cheap drinks and Lady Gaga used to perform there. Plus, I hear the bartenders are hot."

"Sounds perfect," everyone chimes in in unison.

"Grab your bags, ladies...this taxi's ours," Colleen says and leads the charge to the cab.

We all step off the curb, put our bags in the trunk and pile into the small yellow cab to head into the City.

When we arrive at our hotel in Hells Kitchen, my prayers are answered and we receive adjoining rooms. Colleen and I in one room. Rachel and Heather in the other. All four of us trying to get ready in one hotel room and one bathroom would have pushed me over the edge.

"Time to get ready ladies!" Heather yells through the door adjoining our rooms.

"Rules are simple. Lots of leg and boob, girls. I get final approval on all outfits!" Colleen declares.

I snort out loud at her demands and throw my suitcase on the bed. A few moments later, Spice Girls _Wannabe _is blaring from Heather's phone and we are all dancing around the hotel rooms singing at the top of our lungs.

"Green shirt or back shirt?" I ask holding up them up for Rachel to see.

"Oh no!" Colleen yells. "The rules clearly state lots of leg. You are not wearing pants! Here, wear this," she says, tossing a navy dress in my direction.

"This won't fit me. My butt is twice your size!"

"Try it on," she scolds.

I pick the dress up off the bed and step into it. When I finish fastening the last button I walk over to the full length mirror.

"Meooooow!" Rachel cries behind me. "That is a winner!"

I laugh at her reaction. She's right, the denim shirt dress hugs me in all the right places.

"I don't know. It's not supposed to be this snug," I explain tugging at the hemline.

"Nope. Nope. Nope," she says with her hand on her hip. "It looks perfect. Throw on my gold hoop earrings and those platform sandals you wore on the plane and va-va-voom! Magnifique!"

"Okay. Okay. You win." I throw my hands up in the air and give in to my overbearing friend. Snug shirt dress and platform sandals it is.

Dinner at Boucherie in the West Village is amazing. Thanks to Ranko, the bartender, drinks appear to be bottomless as they just kept appearing at our table. Our conversation flows seamlessly and the food is delicious.

By the time we stumble out of Boucherie it is 9:30pm and we are beginning to feel the effects of the never ending cocktails.

"Damn that was a good choice," Rachel exclaims. Dancing on the sidewalk, trying to come off as light spirited and excited instead of drunk. Heather nods her head in agreement.

"Seriously, bravo on the choice Colleen. How did you hear about it?" I ask.

"I have a friend that works here in the City a few times of month and I totally picked her brain. It pays to have connections," she winks.

"Keep that friend on your Christmas card list," Heather sputters. We all can't help ourselves from laughing at her snarky nature.

"And for my next trick..." Colleen exclaims, "we will grab an Uber and head to the East Village," she says pulling her phone out of her pocket to secure our ride.

Without warning, Heather has pulled up her playlist on her phone and is blasting Shawn Mendes and shimmying to the music on the sidewalk. Random pedestrians are forced to walk awkwardly around us as they make their way up our side of the street.

"I'd like to apologize to the City that Never Sleeps now for the mayhem that is about to unfold," Colleen giggles as she does the running man in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Someone PLEASE do the worm and make this night complete," I laugh out loud.

"Hold that thought - Uber is here!" Colleen exclaims and we all pile into the black car to head across town.

As we pull up in front of Welcome to the Johnsons, we are all left speechless. Rivington St isn't the bright and lively section of town that we just left. The old brown awning and sloppily spray painted bar name on the wood paneling out front welcomes us to our next stop.

"Charming isn't it," Colleen asks as we hop out of the Uber.

"Sure, if you're into that 'come on in and get rufied' vibe," Heather bites back. We all throw our heads back in a fit of laughter and make our way inside the bar Lady Gaga first began performing. Look how far you have come Gaga. Look how far you have come.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**Chapter song list: **_**Look What You Made Me Do**_** by Taylor Swift, **_**Attention **_**by Charlie Puth**

**SARA BETH**

Inside, a group of 20-somethings are playing pool on the lone pool table. Music fills the space and people are dancing but there is no designated dance floor. Just a good old dirty bar that looks like someone decked it out in junk they found at your grandma's garage sale. An original Ms PAC Man machine stands alone against one paneled wall and the bar stools, over tufted blue pleather 70s High top stools stand mostly empty in front of the bar. They look overly high end when compared to the 70s wood and brown retro floral velvet sofa that Heather plops herself on as we walk in the door. The plastic covered cushions remind me of my great grandmothers living room and crinkle as she make her claim. The bar, without question, wouldn't look out of place in an episode of CSI and I immediately fall in love.

"They nailed 'divey atmosphere," I yell to my friends over the music blasting from the jukebox speakers. Giving them a thumbs up as I spin around to inspect the back of the bar.

"If this doesn't leave you with Courtney Love vibes I don't know what will," Heather chimes in as she makes her way to the bar. She returns with four cans of PBR and huge grin.

"We are all definitely leaving with an STD or two,: Colleen mocks.

"Nothing on tap just $2 PBR cans. And the bartender...holy fuck..." Heather gestures behind me as she makes her way back to us from the bar.

I turn around half expecting to spot some overly greasy and tatted hipster but instead my eyes land on what is surely one of the hottest men I've ever seen in the flesh. Dirty blonde hair and facial hair to match. His all-American face and well sculpted 20-something body can't be hidden by his carefree attire. Well worn jeans and a tight nondescript white T-shirt have never looked that good on anyone before. He is a walking sex god. The thing wet dreams are made of. The girls burst out laughing when I turn around and they see my expression.

"We need a fire extinguisher for her parties!" Colleen yells to a group behind us.

I swat at her and laugh.

"Hello, there stranger," Rachel purrs at him from across the bar.

"Holy hell..." I exclaim, fake fanning my face and chest while laughing. Before I can look away, he catches my eyes from across the room and a smile creeps across his face.

"Shit he caught me oogling," I spit out, flushing from embarrassment.

"From the looks of him, he's probably used to it."

"Pool tables free! Let's play!", Heather shouts as she peels herself from the plastic covered sofa and heads toward the pool table, staking her claim.

"Rachel, you rack 'em," Colleen barks.

The four of us each grab a stick from the rack and chalk the tip. Several times my eyes drift toward the bar. The male bartender has been replaced with a young female counterpart and is nowhere to be seen. Must have been the end of his shift, I think to myself. Placing both hands on the edge of the table I lean forward and raise my voice.

"Losers buy the next round," I challenge.

"$2 PBRs? This is the highest stakes game of pool that's ever been played in the history of pooling," Rachel giggles.

"You're on. Break!" Heather motions to Colleen.

The first game is a hot mess but full of laughter and inside jokes. Heather and Colleen sink the eight ball half way thru the game and stride to the bar in defeat to buy us another round. When they return, PBRs in hand, Colleen leans across the table to hand me my can.

"Sara Beth, truth or dare," Colleen smirks.

"Oh dear is this really what the night has dissolved to already?" I ask grimacing. I'd rather not play and instead try to avoid eye contact by by focusing my attention on the brown stain on the pool table.

"Okay fine, Rachel you go first! Sara Beth is ignoring us. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Rachel responds quickly.

"Which of your kids do you like better?" Colleen breaks out in obnoxious laughter.

"That's easy, Alice. She doesn't pee on the floor like Henry does." Her blunt response has us all laughing until we cry.

"Okay, back to Sara Beth. Truth or dare?" I roll my eyes in annoyance.

"Fine. Truth."

Heather, Colleen and Rachel huddle at the far end of the table whispering to each other.

"You can't gang up on me like this," I laugh waving my stick at them.

"Tell us a secret you haven't told anyone? Your life can't truly be all roses like it appears from the outside," Rachel chides as she stares at me from across the table.

I'm not sure if it's the fact that I'm drunk or that I'm in a dive bar so far from home, possibly both, but before I can stop the words from pouring out of my mouth I yell, "I've never had someone give me an orgasm".

All three of the girls who clearly were waiting for a more PG admission freeze and their heads whip in my direction in horror.

"Never?" Heather stares in horror.

"Ryan has never made you come?" Rachel asks in disbelief.

"But you've been together since high school...for almost...oh my God Sara Beth. How? Why?" Colleen demands putting her hands on her hips.

When I spin to my left to grab my beer, I see the handsome bartender picking up our discarded PBR cans from the high top tables. My face flushes and I cast my eyes to the floor as a wave of nausea washes over me. I throw up a silent prayer that he didn't just hear me admit to never orgasming at a man's hand. I want to melt into a puddle and disappear. Thankfully he doesn't let on that he heard my admission and makes his way back to the bar with our empties. I turn around and face my girlfriends.

"I could kill you all," I threaten as they burst out laughing. Instead I focus my attention at straightening my dress and playing with the hemline.

"But seriously, Sara...what the hell?" Heather redirects the conversation.

"Okay. Okay. Enough. I've orgasmed...just, well...Ryan hasn't ever given me one," I divert my attention to to racking the pool balls.

"Ever? You've been together for what, 20 years?" Colleen asks leaning on the table.

"Twenty-four actually. We got together our senior year."

"So in 24 years he's never once shown issue that you haven't orgasmed?" Rachel asks in astonishment, hands on her hips. "Is he seriously that self-centered?"

"No. No...he well, I started faking them when we were dating because I didn't want to hurt his feelings and well, I guess I just never stopped". I feel silly as soon as the admission is out in the open.

"Wait, you have been faking orgasms for 24 years? Girl, how have you not turned into a serial killer with all your pent up sexual tension?"

"How can he not tell you are faking them?" Heather demands. "I mean, I faked an orgasm or two over the years just to wrap up horrible sex but this..."

"Does he just not do it for you, you know...that way?" Rachel nudges.

"It's not like that. I mean, I guess sometimes it is. I can't stand it when he drinks," I sigh. The irony of me complaining about him drinking too much while I've had too much to drink isn't lost on me. But, admitting it out loud feels like a weight has been lifted so I continue. "If he comes to bed after having too many he's sloppy and rushed and uses far too much tongue", I inwardly cringe while mentally imagining him licking my chin and bottom lip. I stare at the floor and for the first time realize that I am physically repulsed when being intimate with Ryan when he's been drinking. I hesitate for a moment before continuing. "And other times I just feel, obligated? You know. Marriage with kids is busy. So I find myself waiting for it to be over. But he wants to make sure I'm satisfied too so I just, well, fake it so he finishes."

Rachel, Colleen and Heather are stunned into silence. By the looks on their faces I have said far too much. Did I seriously just admit that out loud? How much have I had to drink? I shift from foot to foot and clear my throat silently praying that one of them changes the conversation.

"Sara, I'm glad you say you are happy but there is zero shame in admitting that you aren't fulfilled. Sex is a big freaking deal," Rachel says adding more chalk to her stick.

Unfulfilled. Unfulfilled. I lean back against the wall processing Rachel's words. Is that it? The piece that's been missing? The nagging voice in the back of my head? I just need Ryan to give me an orgasm. Spice up our sex life. Is it that easy? My thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of shots from the bar.

"Here you go ladies," the bartender says as he places a round of shots on the table in front of me.

"Oh thank you but we didn't order those," Rachel admits. Colleen elbows her for trying to deny the free drinks.

"She meant thank you," Colleen corrects her, smiling.

"No, these are from the guys at the end of the bar," he says motioning to the stools closest to the door. The guys sitting in them begin waving and giving us come hither looks.

"Enjoy the shots but steer clear of them", he says as he lowers his gaze, smiles and steps back from the shots he placed on the table.

"We knew we liked you!" Colleen shrieks.

"You're not just a pretty face. You're street smart too! What's your name handsome?" Rachel hollers giving him a high five and a hip bump.

"You're welcome. It's Luke," he says smiling as he walks back in the direction of the bar without another word.

An hour of drinks, pool and truth or dare later, and I feel like my bladder might burst on the spot. I jump down off the stool and cross the room to the bar bracing myself with furniture along the way. My inner monologue begins to chastise me for the drunken mess I've turned into tonight.

"Excuse me, Luke? Where's the bathroom?" I ask with puppy dog eyes.

"Oh geez, you aren't suited for our bathroom," he chuckles, throwing the rag he was wiping the bar down with on the back counter. "Follow me, you can use the one out back." He motions for me to step around the bar and I follow him behind the curtain. The weight of his words begins to sink in to my cloudy mind.

"What do you mean not suited for?" I ask defiantly, a bit drunk and a bit more offended. I puff out my chest and narrow my eyes in anger.

He chuckles again and stops in front of a closed door. Grabbing the door knob and pulling the door open, he turns and leans in to me.

"This bar is below you. Our bathroom is covered in graffiti and bumper stickers. You deserve better than a dive bar. Period," he says softly. I'm lost in the depth and his eyes. Deep, striking blue eyes. I break the connection and close my eyes, breathing in his scent. A mix of laundry soap, sandalwood and hints of beer that he's been serving all night. Trying to center myself, I reply, "You don't know anything about me," I say in defiance.

"Well you've obviously been with the wrong men," he declares. My eyes pop open in surprise. How much of our conversation did he hear? All of it? I'm both furious and embarrassed. A part of me wants to turn around and slap him for his comment.

But a much larger part of me just wants to be near him. Without realizing it, he has walked behind me and whispers just loud enough for me to hear, "Sara, don't be embarrassed. That's on them not you". His breath moves the hair by my ear. Leaving goosebumps on my arms and neck. I close my eyes again and hold my breath as his hand slowly moves to the side of my face and tucks the loose hair behind my ear. He exhales loudly and his arm slowly falls to his side brushing mine. Electricity vibrates through my body screaming for him to touch me again.

I stand unmoving in the doorway of the bathroom fearful of what I will do if I move even an inch. I'm married. I'm married. I mentally repeat to myself. You're just drunk. Don't do anything stupid. I turn towards the bathroom.

"Him. Singular. It's only been him," I blurt out before I can stop myself. I bite my lip and roll my eyes. Thankful my back is to him. Why did I just admit to this gorgeous stranger I've only ever been with one man.

He doesn't let on that he even heard my admission and instead reaches past me and turns on the bathroom light.

"I'll be at the bar," he says and turns on his heels, leaving me alone. Internally I'm both relieved and disappointed with his retreat. Without another word, I step into the bathroom and turn the lock on the door. Staring into the mirror over the sink I look back at the reflection in the mirror. The reflection seems foreign. How did I get here? How did I waste 24 years of my life going through the motions of an unfulfilled marriage? Why did I just admit that to a complete stranger? I don't want to be drunk anymore. I close my eyes and the tears begin to fall as reality sinks in.

I'm not sure how much time has passed but it's obviously longer than anyone should spend in a bar bathroom because I hear a knock on the door.

"Sara Beth. Sara...are you in there? The bar is closing. We've gotta go!" It's Rachel. She sounds concerned.

"Yeah, I'll be right out," I say, wiping the rest of the almost dried tears from my cheeks and splashing cold water on my face.

"Okay, we already settled the tab and we'll be outside waiting for you," she says.

I give myself a few minutes to dry my face, touch up my make-up and wash my hands. Somehow, despite too much alcohol and slightly red eyes, I don't look like a complete train wreck. I take a deep breath, unlock the door and slowly make my way to the exit.

The only light inside the bar is coming from the pendants above the pool table. I keep my eyes straight ahead, glued on the front door as I make my way through the empty bar. No more awkward interactions with handsome strangers. No more embarrassing admissions. One foot in front of the other. Straight ahead to my girlfriends.

Just as I reach the bar door, I think I hear someone say my name and I pause momentarily. My step falters for half a second but I throw my chin up, push the door open and step on to the sidewalk. Taking a left out of the bar, I spot my friends that have gathered at the intersection and slowly walk their way. They are huddled at the cross walk waiting for me to catch up. Colleen catches my eye and waves at me. I wave back and she turns back to her animated conversation with Rachel.

"Sara wait," I hear over my shoulder.

I freeze and turn to see Luke, the bartender, rushing towards me.

"You forgot your jacket," he says as he walks closer, holding it out for me. I reach to grab it from him but he motions for me to turn around. Without thinking, I do as he instructs, sliding my arms into the sleeves as he slowly lifts the collar up my back to my neck. Straightens the collar of the jacket and in one swoop, gathers my hair at the nap of my neck and lifts it out of my jacket, fanning it down my back. Far too intimate a gesture for a stranger to perform.

"Thank you," I spit out, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach and the sexual tension in the air.

Before I can turn around, Luke runs his hands down the arms of my jacket and gives my wrists a squeeze before leaning into my hair to speak.

"Let me walk you home," he whispers. "You've had a lot to drink and it looks like your friends aren't ready to call it a night yet." His chest is now leaning against my back while his hands are still holding on to my wrists. I glance up at my friends at the corner who, for reasons unknown, are now doing the YMCA. I smile at them and gently shake my head. He gently squeezes my wrists again, getting my attention.

My breath catches. My eyes close and a jolt of excitement runs through me. This gorgeous stranger, who is at least ten years younger than me is asking to walk me home. I'm not sure if it is the pheromones, alcohol or fact that I spent at least 20 minutes in the bathroom crying over the realization that I am in an unfulfilled marriage but I turn into him and do the exact thing I would have never imagined myself doing. I step back and turn to face him.

"I'd love that," I say looking up into his face. The moonlight accentuating his chiseled jaw and cheek bones.

He smiles and squeezes my left hand with his. With his right hand he brushes his thumb roughly across my cheek and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"Hold on one second," I take my hand back from his and pull my phone out of my bag to text Colleen.

*Go on without me. Luke is going to walk me home.* I hit send before I can think twice about what I have agreed to. Dropping my phone back in my bag I look up to meet his stare.

"Ready," I tell him.

He smiles and nods, and tucks my arm in his, allowing me to lean in to him and steady myself as we walk on the uneven sidewalk. Taking a right out of the bar we walk away from my girlfriends and maneuver around the never ending piles of garbage on the East Village sidewalks. It's always trash day in New York, I chuckle to myself.

From somewhere behind us I hear my name yelled followed by hysterical laughter and cat-calling. I giggle out loud and hear Luke do the same. We continue to walk up the street together. Not saying a word. Colleen obviously shared my text with the group and approves of my poor life decisions. What the hell am I doing? NYC 1-Sara 0.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

**Chapter song list: **_**IDGAF**_** by Due Lipa, **_**Heaven**_** by Julia Michaels, **_**Just Another Love Song**_** by Tiffany Alvord**

**SARA BETH**

We walk a full block in silence. When we reach the corner of Rivington and Norfolk, Luke turns to me and smiles.

"Where are you staying? I'm assuming you don't live here in the City?"

"No, we're actually from Maine. We're just here for the weekend. Girls trip," I add. Wondering silently why I am offering up more information than he asked for.

"So...where are we walking to?" he asks smiling down at me.

My mind goes blank. The hotel...where are we staying?

"Umm...it's oh man, what is the name of it. It's not a big chain...and it's in Hells Kitchen," I spit out the only identifiable piece of information I remember on the hotel.

"Hells Kitchen?" Luke chuckles. "That's a little too far for you to be walking tonight."

"Oh, I didn't realize..." I trail off, embarrassed of my inexperience and lack of direction in NYC.

"Why don't we go for a little walk down here and get some air, maybe a bite to eat? See how you are feeling after we get some food in you?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and squinting his left eye as if trying to assess my reaction to his question. When I don't respond immediately he brings his left hand to to my chin and raises my gaze to meet his.

"Sara?"

"Sure!" I respond. Nodding and biting why lip nervously. I need the fresh air to regain my wits around him. His stare is disarming. He smiles and we start walking across the street. Each step in unison as if we've done it thousands of times.

What the hell am I doing wandering around NYC with a stranger? His looks aside, I don't know this man and the girls don't know where I am. Alone, with a stranger in a large city. He could mug me, assault me, God, he could kill me and no one would know where to look. Okay, breath. Stop acting drunk and letting your mind race. Look at him, he isn't a murderer, I think to myself. I sneak a glance up at him through my lashes as we continue our walk. To my horror he is watching me intently. I grimace.

"Sara? What are you thinking in that head yours now?" he asks calmly with the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

You wouldn't be smiling if you knew I was wondering if you were going to murder me, I think to myself sarcastically.

"I, uh, was just kicking myself for wandering around a strange city with a strange man well past my bed time. This is, well, definitely out of character for me," I explain.

"I would hope you don't make a habit of this," he answers. "But I have to say, I'm glad that you agreed to let me walk you." And he gives my hand a small squeeze to emphasize his point.

"So...let's keep the conversation going," he says enthusiastically. "How about I ask you two questions and you get to choose one to answer. Then it's your turn to ask me two questions. Deal?"

"Deal. You go first." I secretly like the fact that his little game will both allow me to get to know him better but also, provide me with wiggle room to avoid a question I may not want to answer.

"Okay," he says pausing to consider what two questions he is going to pose. "Where in Maine are you from and why are you here in New York?"

"Well those are easy, I"ll answer them both," I say smirking up at him. He returns my smile. "I'm from Bangor. It's in the Central part of the state. Stephen King is from my hometown. And my girlfriends and I are here for a girls weekend. A much needed time to unwind and act out," I tell him. Giggling a little too loudly. "I guess I have the act out portion down to science don't you think?" and I laugh again.

"I'd say so," Luke responds and shakes his head. "Your turn."

"Okay...where are you from and how long have you worked at Welcome to Johnsons?"

"Well since you answered both, it only seems fair I do the same," he says feigning fake disgust and laughing. "I live in Brooklyn but I'm originally from South Carolina. Country boy that moved to the big city. I actually only work at the bar when someone is on vacation. I know the owner and help her out on occasion."

"Oh, so what do you do then?"

"Nope, not so fast. I answered your two questions. It's my turn," he interrupts, grabbing my arm and quickly pulling me back onto the safety of the sidewalk. A car flashes by blaring its horn in warning. "Let's wait until we get the walk sign first," he teases and winks at me before continuing.

"What do you do for work? Why did you agree to let me walk you home?," he asks as the cross walk light turns and we resume walking.

"I run my own real estate agency back in Maine," I answer, somewhat panicked. Waiting for him to call me out on not answering the second question. He gives me another moment to ensure that is all the information I'm going to provide and smiles acknowledging I'm ignoring the second question.

"Okay, so we are down to answering only one of the questions already. That was quick," he laughs out loud and shakes his head. I clear my throat in response.

"Where are we going and why did you ask to walk me home?" I spit out, part embarrassed for asking him and partly hoping that my questions will take the spotlight off of me not answering his second question. I can sense his eyes on me but I don't look up to meet his gaze. Instead I continue to watch as my feet hit the sidewalk.

"Well, I thought we could walk up to Veselka. It's an Ukrainian all-night diner and I could really go for some smothered latkes. Their's are delicious. What was the other question? Why did I ask to walk you home?" he pauses as if to gather his thoughts and then continues. "I watched you all night at the bar and couldn't take my eyes off you. I don't think there was a man there tonight, taken or not, that didn't want to walk you home. I just had the balls to ask." I had unknowingly been holding my breath waiting for his answer but I laugh out loud at his balls comment. I turn my head, chuckling and tuck my chin into my shoulder to hide my embarrassment and amusement at his answer. I feel his gaze on me, assessing my reaction.

"My turn," he says proudly while he leads me down E 9th St. "Why did you say yes to having me walk you home and have you never really had someone make you orgasm?"

I can feel myself shrink beside him. Panic sets in. Unconsciously my pace slows. My mind spinning. Heart racing. He heard our entire conversation at the bar. I am mortified. And then he pulls me to an abrupt halt. People begin passing around us as we stand still in the middle of the sidewalk. Soon his hand is below my chin, pulling my face up towards his.

"Sara, breathe," he laughs. "You don't need to hide from me. Look at me. Breathe." He nods and I take a deep breath trying to gain my composure to answer his questions. I nod quickly to acknowledge his reassurance and nervously grin back at him.

"Yes," I lower by head and look at my feet as I continue, "I was being honest at the bar when I admitted that...", he pulls my eyes up to meet his again, "...that I've never orgasmed at someone else's hand hand before." I pause before continuing but hold his gaze. "And I'm not sure why I said yes. All I can say is that I don't feel like I had a choice." He doesn't blink or move, waiting for more of an explanation. I pause gathering my thoughts before continuing.

"You're like a magnet. Can't you feel it?" I continue before biting my lip realizing I've said far too much. He raises his thumb to where I'm biting my lip and grazes it across. Before I realize what I am doing, I close my eyes, open my mouth and gently bite down on the pad of his thumb. Tasting the pad of his finger on my tongue. Pleasure shoots straight to my core. I clench my thighs unconsciously. The sound that vibrates through him breaks me from my trance and returns me to the reality of what I have just done. In the middle of the sidewalk, on a busy street, with a stranger. Embarrassed, I tuck my head to the side to avoid his gaze.

"Jesus, Sara," he says closing his eyes for a moment to regain control of his breathing and composure. "Keep that up and I'll take you right here on the sidewalk," a huge smile breaks across his face.

He wraps my hand in his, which feels much more intimate than how we were previously walking and leads me to the next corner.

"Veselka is right there, across the street. Think you can behave yourself long enough to eat some latkes?" he asks with a grin. I nod and chuckle.

"In all honesty I win either way, so I won't be mad if you can't," he says in his cockiest voice. Almost challenging me to misbehave. I smirk and feign shock at his admission. He raises my hand to his lips, kisses my knuckles and winks, leading me across the last intersection to the diner. A little voice in my head warns me again not to follow him but my body isn't capable of listening. I thank Luke for holding the door and step inside Veselka with his hand on the small of my back guiding me to our table.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

**LUKE**

As we step inside Veselka, I'm hit by the realization that Sara actually agreed to eat with me. Not just to allow me to walk her home, but walk with me and eat with me. And she held my hand and bit my thumb. On the damn sidewalk in the middle of a crowd. The scene flashes through my mind and I can't help but smile at her. Who is this woman and how did she stumble into my bar? I'd like to know so I can thank whoever is responsible.

I keep my hand on the small of her back, guiding her to our table at the far side of the restaurant. I find myself actually disappointed when we reach our table because I no longer have an excuse to continue to touch her. I reach out and hold her jacket for her as she slides out of it. Placing it on the back of her chair. I pull her chair out for her and walk around the table to sit opposite her.

As usual, Veselka is busy. The eclectic Ukrainian menu keeps people coming back for more. And the atmosphere...oh that reminds me.

"I almost forgot to tell you, this diner was in the movie, Ocean's 8 with Sandra Bullock and Kate Blanchett," I explain to Sara as I lean across the table, hoping to impress her with my knowledge of NYC. "They actually sat at that table behind the logo on the window and filmed scenes for the movie."

"Really? Cool," Sara responds, looking around the restaurant as if she's assessing the star power of the diner. Yet she doesn't really seem impressed.

"You haven't seen the movie have you?" I ask smiling.

"No," she admits with a laugh. "I haven't seen Ocean's Eleven either." I laugh along with her.

The waiter comes to take our drink order and I can't help but notice that he's staring at her chest. Her navy dress clings to her in all the right places and the top button has come undone. From his vantage point, the waiter must be able to see straight down her dress.

"Just waters and coffee for now. We are still talking and deciding," I say to him, interrupting their conversation and refocusing his attention on me. From the guilty look on his face it's evident that he knows I caught him eye fucking her.

"Thank you," I say to him in return and don't wait for him to leave before I reach across the table and button the top button of her dress. She never makes a move to stop me but I can sense her holding her breath while I do it. My hands fall to hers on the table, I give them a squeeze of reassurance and smile at her as I see her cheeks flush out of embarrassment.

The waiter is still standing there gaping and I turn to look at him again.

"That's all for now, thank you," I say excusing him from the table. He finally takes the hint and saunters back to the kitchen to gather our drink order.

"Like a magnet, huh? I'd say you are right, but it isn't me that's the magnet," I smirk raising my eyebrows.

"What? Me?" she asks in astonishment. Brushing off my comment.

I simply can't fathom how she doesn't see herself like everyone else does. It's obvious just from watching her interact with her friends at the bar that she has written herself off as the ugly step sister of the group, which couldn't be further from the truth.

The waiter returns to the table with our drinks.

"Do you need a few more minutes with the menu?" he asks making every effort to look directly at me.

"No, we're ready. We'll split the smothered latkes and a sour cream cheesecake, please. Anything you want to add?" I look over at Sara to allow her the chance to add to the order but I know full well she hasn't even looked at the menu.

"That sounds great just as it is," she responds and hands the waiter her menu with a smile. He thanks us and retreats again toward the kitchen.

"So I do believe it's my turn," she says grinning. It takes me a moment to realize she's talking about our game of questioning.

"What do you do for work and how old are you?" she asks fidgeting in her chair.

I lean forward on the table, my weight resting on my folded arms in front of me. Suddenly wishing there wasn't a table between us.

"I turned 30 in April," I say with a grin, watching her cringe as she calculates the age difference. I laugh inwardly thinking how comical it is that her hangup is my age and not that she is married. I'm not going to bring this point to her attention but the irony isn't lost on me.

"Holy shit," she mutters and winces.

"Holy shit, what?" I ask with a chuckle.

"Holy shit I'm 12 years older than you," she admits and she shrinks in her chair and tries to hide her face with her hand processing that for a moment. I laugh out loud.

"I think it's kind of sexy," I admit. Leaning across the table again. I grab her hand and rub my thumb across her knuckles. Her skin, soft and delicate against my calloused hands.

"And," I continue, trying to distract myself from the softness of her hand and her from wallowing in embarrassment of our age difference, "I'm a pilot. I enlisted in the Air Force right out of high school and served for 10 years. Now I fly commercial."

"Oh," she exclaims. She seems genuinely shocked from my admission.

"Liked me better when you thought I was just a bartender at a dive bar in the East Village?" I saw with a snort.

"My turn," I exclaim, changing the topic. "What's your last name and how long are you here in New York?"

"Collins. It's Sara Beth Collins actually," she says shyly. "But most everyone just calls me Sara. And, I'm here until Tuesday morning." She pauses and takes a moment to gather her thoughts. As she does, I think about how the moments of silence between us aren't as awkward as they would be with anyone else. I don't feel compelled to entertain her or force conversation. For the first time I can remember, I'm content just being in the moment. As long as she shares the moments with me, I don't care if they are silent or filled with conversation.

"Well nice to meet you Sara Beth," I extend my hand across the table and shake her hand. I want to ask her about her husband and if she has any children but I'm afraid that will be like throwing a bucket of cold water on the evening so I hold myself back.

"Are you ticklish? What do you want to be when you grow up?" I ask and am rewarded with a smile brighter than Times Square.

"Yes," she giggles. "I'm very ticklish and I don't know that I'll ever know what I want to be when I grow up," she admits. "I always dreamt of being an author and penning the greatest love story of all time but I'm not much of a writer. Actually I'm not sure that I've written anything other than a check, email or a text since I was in college."

The buzzing of her phone interrupts our conversation. She pulls it from her purse and looks at the caller ID.

"It's Colleen. I need to take this. I'll be right back," she smiles as she gets up from her chair and walks outside to take the call. Because of the full glass walls of the restaurant I am able to watch her animated conversation. She is pacing on the sidewalk, nodding, hand on her forehead and suddenly stops and breaks out in hysterical laughter. When she composes herself her eyes are wide and she is shaking her head.

I reach in to my pocket and pull my phone out to check the time. 5:22am. I've been up for almost 24 hours. I'm now officially running on caffeine and pheromones. I put my phone away and glance back out at Sara Beth.

As if she feels her eyes on me, she turns her head and our eyes meet. She tells her friend something, says good bye and ends the call. Neither of us move and we stay staring at each other from opposite sides of the glass. She is obviously contemplating her situation and the space she has created by taking her call outside has allowed her the distance needed to see the situation for what it is. She is in an all night diner with a stranger. I stare at her, bracing myself for when she turns and jumps in a cab to head in the direction of her girlfriends. But she doesn't. Instead she holds eye contact, takes a deep breath and moves up the sidewalk, finally dropping her eyes when she reaches for the door of Veselka. She has made her decision and I can't help but smile.

**SARA BETH**

Our game of twenty questions is interrupted by the vibrating of my purse. As I pull my phone out, Colleen's name appears on the screen.

"It's Colleen. I need to take this. I'll be right back," I tell Luke as I push back from the table and walk outside to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Ahhh...she answered!" I hear her tell someone. "Sara it's Colleen. Where are you? It's almost 5:30am!"

"It is?" I ask in shock. "It doesn't feel that late," I respond, starting to pace up and down the sidewalk.

"Are you avoiding the question?" Colleen asks. "Where are you?"

I nod my head, silently answering her question, knowing that she can't see me through the phone.

"You're not coming home are you? Are you even still in New York?" she demands. I smack my palm to my forehead.

"Of course I'm still in New York," I spit out.

"Oh my God you're in bed with him," she responds excitedly. "That's why you won't answer my question." I stop pacing and break out in uncontrollable laughter.

"Jesus Colleen, if I was in his bed I sure as hell wouldn't be answering the phone."

"True. Do you want us to come get you? Or are you planning on staying with him?" her tone is even but I can hear the excitement in her question. After a moment I hear Rachel and Heather in the background.

"Am I on speakerphone?" I ask in an irritated voice.

"Maybe," Colleen responds with a giggle.

"Hi Sara!" Rachel and Heather screech into the phone in unison. I shake my head at their antics.

"Seriously, I'm you're only entertainment tonight? You do realize you are in the city that never sleeps, right?" I ask.

"You didn't answer me," Colleen interrupts. "Do you want us to come get you?"

I feel Luke's eyes on me through the window. I turn my head toward our table and our eyes meet. I take a deep breath and without looking away from him, I answer Colleen.

"No. No. I'm good. Great actually. I'm definitely staying. Colleen," I hesitate before finishing.

"Yeah?" she encourages.

"I can't stop myself," I admit to Colleen while looking into his eyes.

"No judgment girlie. I don't think you should try to. This has been a long time coming."

"Pardon the pun!" Heather screams in the background. I grunt at her poor taste in jokes.

"Be safe and call if you need anything," Colleen continues.

"I will," I respond, still holding Luke's stare.

"Go get yourself your first orgasm. Go team Luke!" Rachel yells into the phone as Colleen shushes her and hangs up.

I'm standing on the sidewalk outside Veselka still staring at Luke through the window. We are a train wreck. Both knowing we should not be here both knowing we should walk away but neither of us able to.

"Go team Luke," I repeat, dropping my phone in my purse and making my way to the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

**Start Chapter song list: **_**Hands to Myself **_**by Selena Gomez, **_**Into You **_**by Ariana Grande, **_**Slow Hands **_**by Niall Horan**

**SARA BETH**

As I cross the restaurant back toward the table I notice that our waiter has arrived with the food. I could definitely eat something. All that liquor and no food had definitely been a bad idea. Best to get some food in my belly and from the looks of the plates he is delivering Luke ordered some of the best items on the menu.

"Oh my gosh that looks amazing, " I say sliding into my chair.

"Wait until you taste it," he replies as he picks up his fork.

I reach for my fork and lift it in the air toward the middle of the table, meeting his with a clink.

"Cheers!"

I fill my fork with my first sampling of latkes and lift it to my mouth. The first bite is incredible. I moan and nod my head to express my approval of his choices from the menu.

"Told you so," he says smirking.

"Try the cheesecake," he says digging into the dessert. I reach forward with my fork and he swats my hand away. I crinkle up my napkin and throw it at him playfully. His fork lifts from the plate and he holds it out for me. Allowing me time to process what he is doing. My eyes don't leave his and I lean forward closing my lips around the tip of his fork before pulling my head back. The dessert is like nothing I've ever had before. Sweet and creamy with a hint of tangy sour from the whipped top layer. No fruit, no chocolate, no gooey caramel drizzle, just the simplicity of the dessert at it's finest.

"Oh my God! This has got to be the best I've ever had," I admit as I sit back in my seat licking my lips.

"That's what she said," he says not missing a beat, grinning like a schoolboy.

I lean forward across the table and whisper,

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

His eyes go wide and his foot skims up the inside of my calf.

"Same," he responds back before sharply turning to the waiter across the restaurant and yelling, "Check please."

I chuckle and notice my internal dialog between my subconscious and libido has long gone silent. My libido winning hand after hand against my conservative subconscious. The plates are still half filled with food but I'm not hungry. _How far will I let this go? _I push the answer to the back of my mind and my chair back from the table. I grab my bag and jacket, throwing them over my arm. He looks up at me with confused eyes, unsure of what I am doing. Finally leaving? Going to the bathroom?

"You coming?" I ask in the most casual voice I can muster. My voice doesn't betray my true nervous and apprehensive feelings. Instead, I am shocked by how sure and self-confident my tone is.

The reality of my reason for standing finally washing over his face, his eyes wide and he smiles, pulling his wallet from his back pocket he throws a $100 bill on the table and joins me, placing his hand in mind.

"After you," he nods towards the entrance, allowing me to lead the way.

I focus on the door, winding between tables and other early morning diners that are deep in their own conversations, never once letting go of Luke's hand. As I reach for the door handle, I hear Luke mention to the passing waiter that he left money on the table and doesn't need change.

"Thank you. Have a great day," the waiter responds.

As I reach to push open the door, I hear him behind me.

"We fully intend to. Thank you." Grinning, we both step out onto the sidewalk. I am utterly caught up in his presence and unspoken promises and my stride falters. My left foot hits the edge of a cobblestone and I trip in my platform sandals. Luke catches me before I can collide with the sidewalk. _Clumsy isn't sexy, Sara Beth._

"Still a little under the influence?" he asks with humor in his eyes.

"No. Just not used to walking on uneven sidewalks in these shoes," I pull myself upright and grimace as I add weight to my rolled ankle.

"How bad does it hurt?" he asks with concern?

"It will be okay. I just need to take these shoes off," I respond, looking around for a place to sit down. Without warning, Luke's arms are behind my knees and I am scooped off the sidewalk. My body melts into his. I wrap my arms around his neck and lean into his chest. _Don't ever put me down. _My ankle throbbing and head spinning, he gently places me on the bench outside Veselka and kneels at my feet. He takes my right and then left foot in his hands and removes my shoes, making easy work of the buckles. _How can he make removing shoes such a sexy act? _When he's finished, he sits next to me on the bench and places my shoes in his lap. He looks thoroughly impressed with himself and his smooth moves.

"We need to get some ice on that ankle and get it elevated," she says focusing his energy on scheduling an Uber on his phone.

"We?" I ask.

"Yes, we. You didn't think that little klutzy stunt of yours was going to distract me from your earlier intentions did you?" he says with a smirk. "I have ice at my place. Regardless of your ability to follow thru," he leans in and whispers into my hair, "I have every intention of sticking to mine." My eyes close and I lean into him without turning my head. His lips are on my neck and I moan quietly when they make contact with my skin. Slowly licking and biting the skin below my ear. I force myself to absorb the pleasure.

Luke gently nips my earlobe with his teeth, his left hand finds the bare skin on my leg and traces circles on my inner thigh.

"I want to make you scream my name, Sara Beth. I want to give you all the things no one has given you. Let me show you how good it can feel. Please let me," he quietly begs continuing the assault of kisses on my neck.

My pulse is racing and I am so lost in the moment that all I can see is him. There is no Ryan. No kids. No home in Maine. There is only Luke and his needy hands and mouth and my desire to let him have his way with me. _If sitting on a bench on a busy New York street with Luke can feel this good, I might combust if he gets me alone. _I'm willing to take the chance and find out.

"Yes," I say so quietly I'm not even sure if he heard me. But a moment later, when our Uber pulls up to the curb, I can feel the smile forming on his face against my neck and I know he has.

He scoops me up in his arms again and marches toward the car. The driver, spotting him carrying me, makes his way to the rear passenger door to open it for us. Out of embarrassment and excitement I bury my face against Luke's chest and listen to his heart racing against my ear.

Once inside, he slides in next to me on the leather seats. The entire side of our legs touching from hip to foot. The warmth of his body against mine leaves my body humming and needy.

The driver says something to Luke about the address and he responds. I don't hear what either says. Instead, I am staring out the window watching the city blocks pass by, heart racing and blood thumping in my ears.

"Hey, you," Luke whispers in my ear, "where are you?" _Not here. Not in this car. I'm freaking out. I've only been with one man. This is foreign territory. I live my life in the known, in routine, in the ordinary. Luke is none of those things. _He breaks my thoughts. His hand playing with the hem of my dress, skimming and tickling my bare skin with the tips of his fingers. I sigh and turn my head to face him, the thoughts swimming in my head a moment ago have run away. He undoes the bottom button on my dress exposing more leg.

"Stay with me. Here," he pleads quietly, his hand slipping below my dress, his face leaning into mine. "Now." My body responding to his words. I can't believe I'm letting him, but I don't want him to stop. "Please," he continues to beg, waiting for my final approval before continuing. "Say it Sara Beth. Tell me you want me to touch you."

He can feel my body responding. He already knows what my answer will be but he is giving me another chance to walk away. One final chance to deny him.

"Luke, please," I mouth breathlessly. "Please...touch me," I plead.

"Now?" he asks.

"Now," and he leans forward claiming my mouth with his.


End file.
